Butterfly Weeds (40 page)
When I open my eyes again, I notice that the sun has finally escaped back into the earth and that the world has grown vastly quiet except for the few tree frogs and crickets beginning their night songs in the oaks surrounding me. The brightest stars have now also popped out of the darkness, while the moon has take
n its place in the eastern sky.
I gaze at the heavens in awe of its vastness, and I wonder then if Will is somewhere up there too looking down on me watching him tonight. I wonder if he’s smiling that goofy grin of his.
A few moments go by, and I notice that the blanket of blackness above me had in the meantime sprung thousands of tiny lights, and I catch a glimpse just in time to see a burning star streak across the night sky. Almost by instinct, I close my eyes, then lower my h
ead and silently recite a wish.
When I finish, I open my eyes and cautiously turn my face toward the world above me, and with my creased hands, I press the love letter up against my beating heart one more time
and recount his fateful words:
“More than every once in awhile.
More than most dreams.
More than just my heart.
More than anything.”
As I say them, I lean back in my chair and once again close my weary eyes, and in my mind, I am sixteen, and he is just a small-town boy, hoping this small-town girl says
yes
. And in that moment, there are no hurts, no what-ifs, no regrets. Life is just beginning as a soft, peaceful lull covers the world, butterfly weeds sway their dance in the distance and a soft gust wiggles free a page from my journal and sends my last words tossing around in the wind:
Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight – the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realities. My reality was that I was, is and will always be madly and hopelessly in love with you. You are my love of loves, my dream of dreams, my hope of hopes, and I would take the journey all over again because it led me to you, because it’s our story – the story of us.
As for the war, I surrendered.
To my husband, who, if it weren’t for him, this book might still be just pages of black ink tucked away somewhere, long forgotten. I will be forever grateful for your constant support. I love you and am blessed to have you every day in my life.
To my mother, father, sisters and family who were brave enough and patient enough to read the rough draft of my first novel in its entirety and who were kind in their criticisms and ever enthusiastic about my dreams of a stable career in writing.
To those mentors in my life who were passionate in their profession and who taught me that the perfect word is powerful.
And finally, to all those loyal friends along life’s journey who have served as my inspiration and who were never anything but encouraging – even as we fought alongside each other each day to discover our dreams.
To each one of you, Thank you.
Laura Miller grew up in eastern
Missouri
. She received a Bachelor of Journalism and a minor in sociology from the University of Missouri-Columbia and spent years as a newspaper reporter before starting to write fiction. She currently lives in the
Midwest
. This is her first novel. You can visit Laura on Facebook or follow her on Twitter.